


You Told the Drunks I Knew Karate

by RyMagnatar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Roof Sex, Rough Sex, Song based fic, alcohol consumption, assholes, drunk behavior, really dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A weekend with Eridan and Dave based on the song You Told the Drunks I Knew Karate by Zoe Van Goey.</p><p>Dave and Eridan get into some drunken, sexy shenanigans because of their own drunken stupidity and asshole behavior. But in the end, they have each other, and that's exactly what they want all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Do the Dumbest Things for You

Your vision swims when you glance down. The trembling of the ladder is so much worse when you do. You’re a leaf on the end of a branch and it’s nearly winter. You are going to fall and die.

“Hey.”

You look up and your gaze is still swirling. This time it isn’t the vertigo, though. It’s your drunkenness that keeps you from seeing straight. You blink a few times and then end up glaring into the human face above you.

“You got this,” he tells you. “C’mon, babe.”

He’s goading you. You know it. You fall for it every time. “How many times have I got to tell you until you get it. Don’t fuckin’ call me that!”

“Why don’t you come up here and make me,” he shuffles back on the roof.

You hiss and take another step up on the ladder. It creaks under your weight and you shudder. He laughs. So you glare up at him and take another step and another, growling under your breath. When you finally reach the top of the ladder, you climb off and onto the roof.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You crawl across the top to reach the same spot Dave is in. He’s wedged in a corner where the roof over the front of the house and the side of the house meet. You work your way in between him and the roof and fold your arms tightly across your chest.

“Good job,” he pats your cheek. “I told you that you got this, sugar pie.”

“That one is fuckin’ worse than babe,” you push his hand away.

“What are you going to do about it?”

He’s got that smirk on his lips, like he knows what you’re going to do before you do it. That irritated you more than the pet name, but what could you do? He knew you too well. You lean over and kiss him, just as he opens his mouth to ramble about something else.

You kiss him and he makes that muffled noise like he’s trying to talk against your mouth. So you drop your hand down to his waist and run your hand up and underneath his shirt. You feel him shudder as you drag your fingernails up along his ribs. His fingers dig into your hair, messing up your styling, but you’ll get him back for that later. Finally your hand reaches its goal of his nipple. You trace around the edge, drawing his tongue into your mouth as you do.

Just as he gives you a soft little moan, you pinch your fingers around his nipple and twist. His moan turns into a yelp and his whole body arches off the roof. You break the kiss and whisper, “Don’t fuckin’ call me babe. Or suga’ pie.”

“Or what?” He licks his lips, “You’ll punish me? Tie me up and whip me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” You kiss him again, biting at his lip. He shivers when you scratch your nails down on either side of his nipple. “I just might do it.”

“I dare you, honey bear.”

He pushes all your buttons in just the right way; you can’t help but retaliate in kind and push all of his. You pull his hand off of you, out of your hair and hold it down above his head. You use that same arm to hold down his other one, pinning them both above his head. “Oh, Mr. Ampora, oh~” he croons in a mockingly sweet tone, “Are you going to have me up here on this roof?”

“Only if you beg me properly,” you whisper into his ear. He laughs softly, but that turns into a groan when you pulls at his nipple again. “Then I’ll have you right up here where anyone can see if they want to.”

“Fuck, yessss,” he draws out the word for as long as you scratch your nails down his chest. You can feel his breathing in your fingertips and see his heartbeat in his neck. You pull his shirt up above his navel, and marvel in the way his skin turns red so easily under your fingertips.  His hips arch up as you tap out a rhythm on his abdomen.

 “So eager,” you bite his earlobe. “Don’t tell me, this isn’t one of your fuck-it list locations, is it?”

“A-all right,” he stutters. Your fingers are pushing under the tight waistband of his pants. “I w-wont.”

“Knew it,” you chuckle. You lick up the side of his neck, biting as his jaw and leaving more delicious red marks on his skin. “Pervert.”

“You kn-know I can feel where your f-fucking hand is, right. And you call _me_ the pervert.” He gives you a broad smirk and you have to kiss the expression off his face. “Cold hands,” he mutters against your lips.

“Still? Well we should work on warmin’ them up then, shouldn’t we.” Playing games and pushing buttons was fun, but there was a point when he got too chatty. That was the telltale sign you weren’t doing enough. So you push your hand down his pants, under his boxers as well, and wrap your fingers around his dick.

His hands push up against your arm. You push yourself up a little more, putting weight on his arms, and down on his hips. He arches off the rough surface of the roof, groaning as you work him into a fever pitch. In a place like this, out in public, just out of casual view, Dave has no volume control. He groans and moans as you work him over with your hand. The only time he’s quiet are when you cover his mouth with your own.

Dave’s writhing and arching pushes his shirt up farther. You move your mouth to his chest, sucking and biting on his nipples as you rub the head of his cock with your thumb. The way you lay half on top of him has his thigh pinned under your crotch. The more he moves and moans, the more he arches and aches for you, the more he can feel how it’s turning you on.

He has to say your name several times before you pull your head up from where you’re trying to write your name on his chest with your teeth. You lick your lips, “Yeah?”

“Fucking do it already.”

“Do what?”

He growls in annoyance. “Stop teasing me, baby. Just fuck me already!”

You squeeze his dick hard, almost hard enough to hurt. He cries out in that delightful mixture of pleasure and pain and his hips arch up against your hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t,” you pant out. “Maybe I should just make you jizz in your pants, all because of a few bites and my hand down your boxers.”

“Darling, sugar tits, snookums, dearest, sweetie dumpling, don’t you fucking dare.” He’s grinning up at you, but his breath is coming too fast, too shallow to support his expression of calm.

You squeeze again and his legs spread and arch up. “And if I do dare?” He bites his lip. His shoes scrape on the roof.

He was gasping for breath now. You could count his ribs with each inhale. “Please,” his voice is like a puff of air, “Please, Eridan.” His hands are grabbing at yours. “Please, don’t tease me any longer.” His glasses have slid up. His pupils are blown, huge black circles surrounded by a thin red line.

Your eyes move down his face, to his chest where half of your name is bitten across his chest, down to his pants. You slide your hand down his cock, watching him shiver as you pull your hand out. His buttons pop open and his zipper slides down easily under your fingertips.  

Dave wriggles his hips as you pull his pants down under his ass onto his thighs. You don’t want to take the chance of him losing his pants over the edge of the roof. A little shifting and you’ve got Dave on his side and you’re lying behind him.

You have to let go of his hands to rifle through his pockets. This is Dave, too spontaneous for his own damn good, and so when you find the small container of lube, you’re not in the least bit surprised. It’s not the best quality stuff, but it does the job. He shifts his hips and mutters in pleasure as you work your fingers into him.

This isn’t your first time getting him ready, though, so when you find his prostate it isn’t an accident at all. He spits out a curse and your name almost simultaneously as you work him up. His hips jerk back against you. “Eridan,” He’s got a warning, sharp edge to his words, “Don’t you fucking da-aah!”

You sink your teeth into his collarbone, making yet another mark, and push your fingers hard into his sensitive spot. His fist hits the roof in front of him, his fingers scratching along the surface. You watch him tense up his whole body to keep from cumming. When you lift your mouth up, you tug on his earlobe and whisper, “I liked it better when you were beggin’.”

He does that thing where he tries to keep his mouth shut and moan at the same time. It comes out like a muffled whine that just makes you want to tease him more. So you pull your fingers out of him and just lay there, waiting. “Well?”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” he breathes out the words heavily.

“I don’t see me really fuckin’ any assholes right now. Are you interested in me fuckin’ yours?”

He groans in annoyance and reaches back behind himself to smack his hand at you. You grab his arm and twist it up behind his shoulders. The next sound he makes is another one of those muffled whines.

You lean in close to his ear and whisper, “Beg. You want me to fuck you on this roof in front a god an everyone who decides to look up on this street? Beg for my cock.” Your heart is pounding in your ears, like it is every time that you do this to him. You’re afraid you’re pushing him too far, too much. You would do anything to keep him as yours. You _do_ do everything you can to keep him. He’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you.

And it would be just like you to fuck it up by pushing him over the line.

“Please,” the word is dragged from his lungs like it almost hurts him, “Please, fuck me with your cock.”

Yet, every time you think you’ve crossed the line, he just shows you more of himself. You’re beginning to think there really aren’t any boundaries with this guy.

“Say sir,” you stall while reaching for your back pocket to get out your condom. “Say fuck me please, _sir._ ”

Again he surprises you.

“Fuck me raw, sir. Fuck me fucking bare, sir.” His hand reaches back and grabs your hip, “I’m clean and you know it. Fuck me until I’m dirty, sir.”

Now you’re the one who has to bite your lip to keep from moaning aloud. You know that you should put on the condom anyway, no matter what he says, but he called you sir and you’ve always wanted to go without. A roof fuck is a hell of a first time bare, you think to yourself as you pull open your pants.

You use some more lube to slick up your cock and instead of moving forwards you drag him back. You just can’t deny your nature, in the end, so you tease him by rubbing against his entrance and then down underneath it, making him swear at you with increasing desperation. His breath is coming hard already; you can count his ribs if you glance down on an exhale.

He starts begging again, instead of cursing, and his voice goes from angry desperate to outright pleading. So you grab him by the hips and stop tormenting you both. As you push in, his voice rises up and up into the night in a call of pleasure. You go slow at first, enjoying every skin to skin contact that you get, and also because fucking from the side has always been a little odd to you. It reminds you of swimming the butterfly stroke, which puts your mind in a place you don’t want to go.

So instead you roll and pin Dave on his stomach. He spits out a curse once his cock hits the rough surface of the roof, but you get your hand down there to protect him at least a little. You don’t care if your knuckles go bloody for him.

With your weight mostly in your legs and feet, though, and your motion carrying you back and forth, there’s a sudden, frightening moment when you skid down the roof a couple of inches. Dave laughs at you when you yelp in surprise. You insult him and slam your cock into him hard enough to make him scream in pleasure.

“Whoops,” you mutter into the hair behind his ear, “was that your prostate?”

He’s putty in your hands now. If this were one of those shitty hentai’s that his brother watches, you bet that this is the part where he’d have hearts in his eyes, begging for the cock. If he could speak. Which he can’t.

You fuck him with vigor, using him to your pleasure and his. You’re breathless, having never caught your breath fully after nearly falling to your damn death, and so you can hardly speak either.

“In, in, in me,” he starts chanting, and that’s when you know he’s close. Your head is swimming with the implications, and you fucking love it. As you near your climax, you bury yourself in deep as you can and moan his name right into his ear.

A few deep thrusts and you’re spent, but he’s still cumming beneath you. You can hear his fingernails scratching at the roof tiles under the sound of his loud cry.

When he’s finished, you pull out, slowly, and roll over onto your back. You suck in deep breaths, looking up at the sparsely starred night sky. You look at your hand. Your knuckles are red with blood and flecks of black from the tiles.

Dave shimmies his pants back up around his hips before he lies, still, next to you. His forearms are bloodied a little, but barely more than an oozing cut here or there.

You look over at him.

He looks back.

You arch your eyebrows. “Well?”

“Yeah,” he pants out, “you fucked me good.”

You laugh, putting your arm around him. You trail light kisses over the red marks on his neck. He wasn’t the strongest person you knew, hell no, but he loved to be bloodied and marked up. Once, a long time ago, at five in the morning after you’d spent hours trying to convince him you loved him, it was only after you punched him in the face and bloodied his nose that he believed you. You didn’t get it, and he had never explained it, but it didn’t matter because he had looked up at you with blood dripping from his nose, his lip, his chin, and said he loved you too.

After a while in silence, Dave pulls out a flask from a pocket. “Gin?”

“Yeah,” you turn your head enough to drink and pass it back. The bottle goes back and forth between you both until you’re warm inside and out. Even in the chill of the night air you’re warm.

Dave falls asleep first, bottle in hand and his head tucked against your neck. You put the bottle in your pocket and put your other arm around him. You mean to stay up, to make sure you both don’t fall and die, but that doesn’t happen.

You drift off and dream of bloody smiles.

* * *

Dave wakes first, startling you into consciousness when he shakes you by the shoulder and says your name. You blink in the sudden sunlight and look at up at him. “Mmrgh?”

“Morning to you too, sunshine,” he smirks. “C’mon, let’s get down before our friends the house owners realize their ladder’s in the wrong place.” He kisses you then, and because of that it takes you a while to realize what he said. You give out a loud groan, though, because fuck that,  you’re stuck up here, you do not want to go back down that rickety thing.

In the end, you follow him down, eyes shut on the ladder, heart pounding, and you snarl when he laughs at you. The two of you jump the fence and get the fuck out of there right after, though.

Dave is the one who drives the pair of you away, one arm around your shoulders and the other on the steering wheel of his truck. You’re half tempted to fuck with him while he drives, but you’re a little hungover and half starved.

He doesn’t go to his place, after he takes you to yours. You shower and then he does and he just wears clothing that he’s left there before. He practically has his own drawer in your dresser, now, and even a toothbrush in the bathroom.

You make food and he goes to sleep on your couch after. You get in a few hours of work on your computer before you pass out on your bed.

* * *

He wakes you up again, except this time it’s with his mouth on your cock. Your first words are a jumble between “Good fucking afternoon to you too” and “you really don’t have to fucking blow me to wake me up you know”. It comes out something like, “God, fucking blow me why don’t you.”

He just licks up your cock and smirks at you.

Asshole.

You know he’s getting back at you for teasing him before, the way he’s moving so slowly. He turns your legs to jelly with a long suck. He turns your breathing into gasps with the light touch of teeth along the side. You whine and groan and shift in your bed as he works you into a mess of too hot skin and not nearly enough fucking contact.

You roll your head back and your hips up. There’s a sudden lack of mouth and you whimper. “Look at me,” he says softly, his breath on your wet skin.

You know that you’re flushed as hell as you dip your chin and look down at him. “Attention whore,” you grit out between shivers.

He looks at you over his shades, eyes burning with lust and amusement. That’s the last you see for a little while because he swallows your cock down into his throat and your eyes roll back in your head. You lose track of sound and time as he sucks on you. You only come back to your senses when he’s lapping at the head of your cock and you’re oh-so-suddenly aware that you’re two sucks away from cumming.

You say his name, breathless and helpless, and he gives you a smile. “Just waiting for your undivided attention, Eridarling.”

You open your mouth to snidely tell him he has it when he squeezes you with one hand and gives you a long lick like you’re a damn popsicle. He sucks on you until your toes curl and you bend your legs automatically. You hiss his name again and he pulls his head back.

You bite your lip hard enough to break skin, watching as your cum hits his face and mouth. “Fuckin’ hell,” you whisper as he sits up. You’re ready to reciprocate, but he just sits there calmly, cleaning off his glasses.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, “I pulled one out before you woke up.”

Now you really do growl at him, “Ass _hole_.”

“Not my fault you sleep like the dead. Now come on and make me something real to eat. I love your cock as much as the next guy, but you’ve got me craving damn leafy things with your healthy food habits so make me some grub, toots.”

You grab him and kiss him, biting his lips and ignoring the way your cum tastes in his mouth in favor of shutting him up for thirty seconds. When you’re done, you get out of bed and find some pants to wear. You could bitch as much as you wanted, but when it came down to it, you were happy to make him food, and happier still that his tastes were changing to suit yours.

* * *

Dave’s the one who catches wind of the party. He’s always the one who gets the invites. The fact is he just knows more people than you, and more people like seeing him at parties. You were not a very popular figure, despite your wit and charm. Whenever you brought that up, Dave was just as flabbergasted as you were, which was such an utter lie.

In the end it didn’t matter anyway, though, because you went to as many parties as you could stomach and with you there Dave always had an out. On more than one occasion he had walked out of a party, declaring his intentions to take you in the backseat of his car and if anyone had a damn problem with it well they could just go fuck themselves. As humiliating as it was to have everyone suddenly aware of your intimate locations with him, he never backed down on his declaration.

You’re certain he’s trying to make up for something, but you don’t know what the hell it could possibly be considering you found him damn near flawless.

Anyway, on this evening in question, Dave gets himself into some nice jeans with a T-shirt saying _I’m With This Asshole_ and an arrow. He tries to get you into the opposite shirt, _Who Are You Calling Asshole, Asshole_ and you concede only after you get him to let you wear a button down shirt over it. He says that ruins the joke. You tell him you’ll lose one shirt anyway you might as well have another as backup.

Turns out this party is in one of those weird rural-city locations where there’s a few acres of grazing land surrounded by the city’s center. You don’t know how the fuck this managed to happen, but it’s probably got something to do with the landowners. One of them is your old friend Feferi, but you and her haven’t spoken in fucking years.

Thankfully, her house isn’t the one that he drives up the long driveway too. It’s some obscure rich asshole that you couldn’t give two fucks about. Dave parks on the grass and walks in with more swagger than is humanly possible. You follow him for a bit before catching up to his side. The pair of you enter the double doors together.

He looks to you, once inside, and grins. You’ve got a great feeling about tonight.

* * *

Somewhere closer to midnight, you lose Dave in the house somewhere. He’s drunk off his ass, you’re sure, and probably ‘making friends’. After searching through the house and seeing more than one couple stashed away in the corners going at it like pigs, you finally locate him in the back yard.

He’s standing on the low fence around a hedge and throwing down one of his raps. It’s decent, despite his drunkenness, but you don’t think that would matter to the people surrounding him. They look like a bunch of retarded, drunk toddlers, gaping up at him, trying to dance to the rap, trying to listen and laughing and falling over. He catches sight of you and ‘throws down’ his mic, which is just his drink. He staggers down, through the crowd and kisses you eagerly.

He pulls back and smirks, “The hell happened to your shirt?”

You roll your eyes, “Over enthusiastic drunk chick.”

“Well I like it,” he nods, running his hand down your shirt. “Now we match, good an’ proper.” He puts his arm around your shoulder and swings around to face the crowd. “See? Fuck you assholes, I told you I had a shirt-mate out there.”

“Yeah? Who the hell is this guy?” A voice calls from the crowd.

“This,” he says, presenting you like you’re a prize on jeopardy, “is my fabulous kung-fu warrior boyfriend. Eridan, impress them with your skills.”

You have to rub your forehead with your palm, “Dave, how many fuckin’ times are you gonna do this. I am not impressin’ no bunch of fuckin’ drunk slobs with any a my skills.”

Wrong thing to say. Shouts come up from the crowd at your insults. Others demand a display of skills. Dave looks from them to you and says, “Looks like you’ve been outvoted, toots.”

You elbow him in the side, “This isn’t a democracy, this is a dictatorship an’ I am the dictator.”

“More like the dick!” Someone shouts. Laughter springs up. Even Dave smirks. When you give him a sour look he just smiles at you and says, “Well you have a very nice dick. I would obey it.”

That doesn’t appease the drunks, though, and they start swarming closer to you, asking for kung-fu skills. Dave backs the pair of you up, but they’re like sharks. They can smell blood in the water and it smells like karate kid.

Before you know it, you’re running across the grounds with Dave at your side, breathless and stumbling through the dark. “I didn’t think they’d be so avid,” he calls to you as you run.

“Shut up and run faster or I’m leavin’ you behind!” You shout back.

He laughs and keeps running. 


	2. I Would be Safer on my Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the night from Dave's perspective.

“Fuckin’ hell, are they still following us?” The two of you stand on top of a bridge over a street. He’s breathing heavily, gripping the railing and leaning out and over, looking down. In the yellow light of the street lamps, his sweaty skin gleams.

“Looks like we’ve just about lost them,” You reply. Looking down below the drunks have become lost, winded. They slow down at a corner to cross, but when the light turns green they don’t go. You put your hand on his back. He looks back at you, gives you a shrug, a smile.

“Are we at the east end?” He glances around the two of you. “Fuck, they really chased us pretty damn far.” He looks amazing, in the city lights, flushed and sweaty. His hair’s messed up as well, from running his hands through it too many times. You bite your bottom lip, looking at him. He wasn’t even fucking _trying_ was he?

“Oi! There they are!”

The two of you look down and he spits out a vicious curse that he’s picked up from online gaming with foreign kids. You laugh and take his hand and run. You two run down the street and around corners. He nearly yanks your arm out of its socket as he pulls you down a path that leads you into an alley behind a supermarket.

You two are hiding behind a dumpster, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. Your lungs, your legs, your skin is on fire. He’s holding onto your hand so tightly your fingers are numb. You’re numb all over. At least what isn’t _burning_ is numb.

You look over to him and he’s laughing softly. “Shit.”

“Eridan,” you breathe out.

He smiles at you, leans in and kisses your cheek. His lips travel down to your neck. “Your pulse is racing,” he speaks against your skin. You can feel him, so close to you. It isn’t enough. His tongue laps at the bottom of your neck and then runs up the vein in your neck to your jaw. “Dave,” he says. His breath prickles your skin, cools it where it touches your damp flesh.

“Hm?” Your eyes have closed. You feel his warmth beside you, his hand clinging to yours, his tongue against your throat. You feel the scratching brick of the wall behind your shoulders through your thin t-shirt. The dumpster is far enough away to not stink up the air, but still casts somewhat of a shadow on you both, drowning your legs in darkness. Your toes curl in your shoes as you feel his teeth at the soft parts of your neck. Your free hand reaches over to hold onto his shoulder, turning your body to bring him closer when you do.

“ _Dave,_ ” he says more insistently.

You open your eyes with reluctance. His eyes search your face. His lips are parted slightly, and you can see them glistening from where he’s been licking them. Intoxicating. “Yes?”

“Are you sure we lost them? For good now? I don’t want to start somethin’ only to have a mob a fuckheads showin’ up an’ throwin’ a wrench into whatever it is we start.” His free hand does that thing he does when he feels anxious. He plucks at the collar of your shirt and runs his fingers down to smooth the cloth. It feels nice, his hand running down your body. His palm is briefly over your heart and you can feel it pounding harder, just because of him.

“Let them find us, especially in the middle of whatever it is we start,” you mimic his words with a smirk. “I’m tired of running. I want to do something else now.” You lean in and lick your tongue across his lips.

You feel his shudder in his shoulder and when it goes down into his hand. His fingers squeeze yours. “Here? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

“No. But I would like to be,” you kiss him lightly again. They’re soft kisses, to tease him into action. Your heart thunders in your ears. “Fuck me like a back alley whore.”

“An’ how the fuck do you expect me to know what that is supposed to be like. Do I look like I’ve fucked a whore in an alley before.” His glare is adorable, endearing. The flush on his cheeks makes you hard.

“Fuck no,” you reply. Eridan, as badass as he wanted to be, was surprisingly straight-laced. It was the wizard love, you swore. He was crazy about wizards, and guys crazy about wizards didn’t go out picking up whores off the street. “But I’m sure you’ve read plenty of shit to give you a heads up in what to do.” You lean in, your mouth an inch from his. An almost kiss. “I want you to use me like a dirty whore.”

He hesitates a moment more. That’s what you love about him. He cares so damn much for your honor, for his honor and pride. You never thought a noble hearted bastard like him would turn you on so much. “Eridan,” you whisper into his ear, “Please.”

And just like that he crumbles. You get front row seats to your own masterpiece of shattering nobility and honor all to serve your depraved little desires. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again he is a new man.

He attacks your mouth ruthlessly. While you give into his kisses, you curve your body along his. He untangles his hand from yours first, using both his hands to hold you by the hips. You wrap yours around his shoulders and kiss back.

While still kissing you, he rolls the two of you over until your back is to the brick again. He kisses you aggressively, pushing his tongue into his mouth and using his hips to grind you up against the wall. You lose your breath to him again and again, even when the kisses have ended and his mouth is at your jugular. He nips at your skin, making fresh marks to compliment the ones from the night before.

He pushes your legs open with his knee and grinds in against you, driving you crazy when you can feel how hard he is already. Your pounding heart makes your blood rush in your veins and lightheadedness addles your drunken mind. He takes control of your body, moving your legs where he likes, putting his hands on you where he likes, and marking you where he likes.

After what feels like hours just basking in his moving hips and mouth, you take your first cold breath. He’s taken a step back. He uses his hands to twist you around to face the brick. You lift your arms, bracing yourself with elbows and hands. All he has to do is run one hand down your side and you’re pushing out your ass for him.

He chuckles. It’s low and dark and a good distance back. You can feel his eyes on you. You glance over your shoulder and watch him as he checks you out. He’s biting his lip. “Damn,” he steps forward enough to slide his hands up your thighs and grab a double handful of your ass, “fuck, you got a hell of a nice ass, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumps into your throat, thankfully muffling the whimper you give out. You close your eyes. You can’t watch him do this or else you’ll completely lose it. You focus on the rough wall under your skin to try and ground yourself. You can’t fall in too deep too fast. You’ve got to give him something to win, after all. What fun would it be to have you begging as a whore this soon?

He gropes up your thighs again, his thumbs on the insides as his hands move up. He rubs you slowly, pushing his thumbs against your asshole even through the cloth. You bite your cheek to hold back another groan. “Are you just gonna feel it up or are you going to make good on your word?” Your words come out almost as a slur they’re so quick.

“And what word is that?” He’s not even trying to disguise his touches now. His palm slides up and down between your legs, tormenting you through the cloth.

“Are you going to fuck me or not, mister?” You feel the momentary hesitation in his touch. Oh fuck yes, you know what that means. He’s going to run with the scenario you’ve set up. He’s going to push at that invisible line of his.

“That’s what I paid for, isn’t it?” When he speaks his mouth is just behind your ear. You can almost feel the pressure of his body looming over yours. “I paid for your body. I’ll use it at my fuckin’ leisure, you impatient whore.”

“Y-yes, sir,” You breathe out the words, barely able to speak at all.

He pulls up your shirt with one hand and traces your spine with his other hand. His fingers run over the black tattoos on your skin, following the swirling lines and letters there. “Nice ink,” he murmurs as if seeing it for the first time. “Kinda classy for a bitch like you.”

When his fingers run over the scars-turned-tattoos on your shoulder blades, your head rolls back and you let out a deep moan. He mutters a curse and puts his fingers to your lips. “Can’t you keep your damn mouth shut, slut? Fuckin’ suck on these to do it for you.”

You eagerly suck at his fingers, working them as far back into your mouth as you can with your tongue and teeth. You can hear his heavy breathing behind you. He retaliates against your sucking by pulling your pants open and sticking his hand down the front.

You only suck harder when he starts stroking your cock. You accidentally bite his fingers and in return he squeezes you almost hard enough to really hurt. Lights spark and dance behind your eyelids and you bite again, harder. He squeezes again and your mouth falls open all on its own.

He pulls your head to the side, pushing his fingers in deeper. “Suck harder, whore. Or does a little cock squeeze really get you that flustered?”

Your fingers dig at the brick. Your legs shake. Because even as he talks he squeezes you again and again. At the base, at the tip, up the middle, moving his hand while he does it. He squeezes you in that way that makes your knees weak and your ankles wobble. You’d fall over if his arm around your side didn’t keep you in place. You whine pathetically around his fingers.

You’re going to cum if he keeps this up. Your hips thrust forward against nothing but his hand. You try to get his fingers from your mouth to warn him, but he doesn’t give you the opportunity.

You just move faster against his hand, thrusting into that squeezing demon hand. Your sucking becomes sloppy, the closer you get to your climax. It happens suddenly, your back arching and the blackness behind your eyelids turning bright as you go over the edge.

When you come back to rationality, your mouth is empty and your pants are missing. Your legs are trembling, hardly able to keep you upright. In fact if it wasn’t for the hand on your side you would---fuck.

Eridan lets go of your side and your knees give out. You land hard on the cement, grunting a little at the pain. You look over your shoulder at him, up at him, and your limp cock gives a hopeful twitch.

He’s standing behind you, pants open, cock out, staring down at you. The light is behind and to the right of him, casting part of his face in shadow, but you can see a glimmer of focus in his eyes and the lustful smile on his lips. “Kinda like you better that way, on your hands an’ knees like a proper whore. There’s only one problem…”

He reaches down and grabs you by the hair. He pulls you back until you have to brace yourself with your hands on the ground behind you to keep from falling onto your back. At this level, his cock is right at your face. “Oh please,” you whisper, “Oh fucking please…” You can’t take your eyes off of it.

“Cock whore,” he mutters, “You want me to fuck your throat, don’t you?”

“God, yes,” you lick your lips, “Don’t have to pay me extra or nothing.”

“Mighty fuckin’ charitable a you, that,” he lets go of your hair to hold onto your chin. He lifts it up and then uses his thumb to hold open your mouth. You stretch open your mouth for him. He teases you, and you should know better by now, but it drives you crazy. You jerk your head up to try and catch ahold so you can suck, but he pulls back just out of reach. You moan in frustration and are about to speak when he finally fucking does it.

You love this angle, because even though it makes it harder to breathe, his cock slides perfectly down your throat. You can feel your eyes roll back as he grabs your head with both hands, his thumbs on your throat, over your veins, and he pushes in. You gag once or twice, trying to suck in a breath when you can, and swallow the rest of the time.

Eridan quickly finds a good rhythm, one that gives you a few seconds to breathe often enough to keep you alive as well as happy.  You manage to get one hand up off the ground and hold onto his ass, helping him get closer whenever it seemed like he was hesitating.

He swears more now, but he bites his words in half so you get half of one and half of another a few seconds later. The best part is that he keeps up with the act, keeps calling you whore and slut and, fuck, his tone is laced with lustful disgust and arrogance. Half of you wants to be angry because he sounds so damn believable. The other half of you just agrees with a vengeance. Tonight, you are his damn whore.

He pulls out of your mouth far sooner than you’d like. You go leaning back too far, looking for his cock, so he has to catch you by the shoulder to keep you from falling. He’s breathing heavily now, deep pants that only remind you of how long he can hold his breath under water.

He pushes you back up to your knees. You lean forward and rest an arm on the brick. “Get up,” he commands you. Your body shivers without ever even asking your mind. “On your feet, whore.”

“I,” you have to struggle to form words. You would rather have his cock in your mouth than the words, “I can’t.”

You hear a strange sound, a ruffling, papery sound. You turn to look and you can’t speak. Eridan has actually gotten his wallet out. He actually pulls out a twenty dollar bill. He shoves it into your hand and then growls, “Get up.”

Somehow you find the strength. Your legs shake from running, from cumming, from the whole night lasting too damn long, but you stand. You lean against the wall, twenty crumpled in your fist, and ass sticking out.

You don’t even hear him get out the lube, but you can feel it on his fingers. He pushes them into you slowly, teasing while he stretches and slicks you up. You know what he’s going for before he even makes a move towards it. You whimper in painful pleasure as he rolls his fingertips over your prostate. Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as he touches you.

He calls you his dirty little cumbucket and tight assed fucking cockslut as he fingers you and you moan in agreement with all of his words. The best ones yet are, “Are you hungry for my cock yet? Or should I have you suck on it some more?”

You almost say yes. One of these nights…

But instead you beg for him to fuck you into the wall and he says he will.

After he torments you some more.

You feel the head of his cock against your thigh, rubbing on the underside of your balls and pressing lightly to your entrance. You just about scream at him to continue, to fucking get on with it, but bite your tongue instead. He teases you and teases you until you’re sure you’re half hard again just from that.

When he finally pushes in, the first thing you notice is that he’s not wearing the condom again. You do your best to clench around him as he pushes in. He fills you up and it feels good, so damn good. You know you’re babbling about how fucking good it is and you can hear him digging into you with his words, but you’re so exhausted all you can do is stand and feel his cock.

Eridan pushes into you with desperate speed and force, grunting into your ear as he fucks you against that wall. Your feet scrape the ground as he lifts your hips up to change the angle.

Your world explodes for a second time as his cock hits and slides across your prostate. You scream out his name, not even fucking meaning to, and he laughs dirty little words into your ears. You would hate him for laughing at you when you’re like this, if it didn’t make you feel so damn good.

Overstimulated, and with no more control or stamina, you find yourself falling into another climax. You come out shaking and panting to find Eridan fucking you slow and deep. His hands dig so hard into your hips you know they’re going to bruise. Somehow he knows when you’ve come back to your senses because he waits until then to ask you, “In or out?”

You swallow mouthfuls of air and then manage to say back, “I’m your fucktoy, sir, you bought me. Use me as you fucking like.”

Apparently that’s all he needs to hear. The next moment, he’s pounding into you, your back to his chest as he fucks you harder than before. Or maybe now is when you can finally fucking feel it. You give him an aching moan of his name when he fills in your cracks with his cum. Everywhere his cock couldn’t quite reach is sealed up so fucking nice when he does that.

Eridan pulls out slowly. This time, when you slump to your knees, he’s there to hold your shoulders and help you go down slowly. Then you hear him crumple behind you. “Fuck,” he whispers.

You lean back and he’s there. Leaning your head on his shoulders and your back on his chest, you lift a hand. He looks at you in confusion and then, when you open your hand, he turn’s red from his ears to his chin to his neck. You laugh at him as he puts the twenty back into his wallet. Then you kiss him, to let him know he did so fucking good.

One of these days you might let him in on the reasons behind these fantasies, but tonight was not it.

* * *

Eridan wakes you with his snoring. You push yourself up slowly, feeling like shit and probably looking like it too. You run a hand through your hair, rub your eyes, and look around. It’s pretty early in the morning, which means you two have gotten, at most, four hours of sleep.

He’s got his head cushioned in his arm, his mouth open and nose smooshed up against his upper arm. He’s drooling a little, and his glasses are askew. Fucking adorable, even with the snoring like a chainsaw.

You lean down and kiss his cheek. Your touch is soft, at first, but you get more firm as you make your way down his unshaven jaw to his throat. You run your fingers over his skin, watching his pulse throb. His adam’s apple bobs and he mumbles something in his sleep.

You debate how you’re going to wake him up this morning when he comes alive like a wire struck by lightning. His arms tighten suddenly around you and he sits up too fast. His chin collides with your forehead, leaving you cursing in pain. He’s panting and looking around wildly.

It takes him a few minutes of you patting his face and shooshing him until his breathing’s regular. He does that weird thing he sometimes does after a nightmare where he pulls up his shirt and checks his waist. For what, you still don’t know exactly, but you get it. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night reaching for your throat, expecting blood when there isn’t any. Sometimes you wake up and you feel like you should be dead.

Sometimes you wake up and you actually do have blood on your hands.

He sits with you in his arms, sucking in deep breaths of air. You can feel his chest moving under your palms, the way that each breath makes his ribs press against you. After a while he shifts his arms from a death squeeze around your middle to actually holding you. He runs his fingers down your spine and to your waist. He lifts up your shirt a little and that’s when you feel his sigh of relief. When he talks his words are muffled against your throat. “Should we go home?”

You nod.

It takes a little longer to actually get up and go, and by that time the sun is lighting up the whole eastern horizon. It pours down over the buildings nearby and makes it glaringly obvious how fucked up the both of you look. His knuckles have split open and bleed sluggishly, the scabs from the night before pulled apart. His hair is all over the place and it looks like he was mauled in the lips by a small weasel. You don’t even want to get started on the state of his clothing.

From the way that he looks at you, it’s clear you don’t look any better than he does. He does that thing where he looks at you, brows furrowed and lips turning down in a frown. Then he realizes he’s staring and turns away quickly, cheeks turning pink. He’s ridiculous and it warms your heart.

You reach out your hand to his cheek and turn his face back, “Hey.” You can’t say much more than that, and even that single word is hoarse as fuck. It only makes him blush harder when he looks at you.

“Are you all right? I mean you…shit you look like you slept in an alley.”

You arch an eyebrow at him. He clears his throat and looks down.

“I’m tired as fuck,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “so take me home, Mr. Ampora, and put me to bed.”

He picks up that you’re teasing him only after you slide a smirk across your lips. He grumbles and folds his arms tightly over his chest. He says something about asshole Striders and shakes his head. “Then let’s go. We can get a bus ride home.”

“Nope,” you say. You pry his hand from his folded arms and begin walking, dragging him after you, “Not leaving my truck at some rich prick’s house for two days.”

He sighs gustily and then picks up the pace to walk beside you. “Let’s get some burgers to eat on our way then. I got a twenty we can spend.”

“I think that’s my twenty to spend, actually.” That blush that was beginning to fade runs up his neck to his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears. It’s worth the punch to your shoulder and his muttering.

* * *

Your legs are jelly again by the time you climb the fence surrounding the huge green yard. There are cars all over the front drive, and people littered around like used up soda cans. You have to pull a passed out couple from the bed of your truck and only laugh at them when they get pissed like cats and run off, hissing and squawking and pulling up their pants. Eridan wrinkles his nose and says something about disinfecting the truck.

You drive the pair of you home the long way. Even after the hour he spent talking about it on the walk over, Eridan picks up his favorite topic of conversation again. World Conquerors.

He’s gone over just about every war you were ever taught in school, and then at least a dozen more you never even heard of, so many times that you can actually carry a conversation about it with anyone. You would talk to him about it, but that’s not what he wants. He just wants you to listen. So with your hand curled in his, you listen as he pulls apart Napoleon’s faults and successes bit by bit, again. You’ve heard this shit so many times you could tune it out and still nod and agree at the right places, just by listening to the tone of his voice.

But the best part was you were actually curious about it. He incited that in you, a curiosity, an admiration of such knowledge. He could read a dictionary to you, and with his vulgar commentary as the only addition to the words on the page, you would listen to that.

Your favorite version of this conversation is where he branches off, telling you what _he_ would have done and how _he_ would have been better. When he starts plotting his own government, after his rise to power and the war that results in it, you start thinking about him in a uniform. Him on a throne with velvet lining. Him in black boots and a glimmering crown. Him looking down at you like he was so much better than you and he was truly deigning himself to turn his gaze on you, let alone speak to you.

It’s images like that in your mind that make “Prince Eridan” the name you want to call him to get his attention. You still haven’t, yet. You’re waiting for the right time.

His words may come in a torrent, pouring around you, filling you up until you couldn’t even remember what it was to be thirsty but yours were weapons. They were needles and each tip had to be carefully sharpened and poisoned, to do exactly what you wanted them to do.

He’s talking about his wars today, as you drive him home from your Saturday night activities.

Eridan keeps talking even when you’ve parked and you’re walking in to his place. You kick off your shoes, peel off your shirt and pants in the front hall and make it as far as the couch before your adrenaline finally runs out. Eridan’s lounging in the loveseat across from you, pants forgotten but shirt still on. He’s yawning between his words and it’s during one of these that you slip in a line.

“We should do that again sometime. I think that party was excellent.”

He laughs at you, but agrees. “A fuckin’ success, all things considered. Next time don’t bring up my failed attempts at karate an’ I think we’ll be golden.”

You chuckle softly, holding one of his pillows in your arms. Your eyes close slowly as you lay there.

You fall asleep to the sound of him talking about the patterns of his cavalry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They chased us through the city center  
> They chased us out to the east end  
> We had to hide behind the supermarket  
> Until the sun came up again
> 
> And we just missed the last bus home  
> So we walked it fueled by adrenaline  
> And when I said I could do it all again  
> That was a lie, that was a lie, that was a lie
> 
> Your plans to make it bigger and conquer  
> Would put Napoleon to shame  
> I'm in a coma on the sofa  
> Until the sun goes down again

**Author's Note:**

> I am drunk and on a ladder  
> Not the smartest way to start my night  
> You said I'd conquer my vertigo  
> That was a lie, that was a lie, that was a lie
> 
> And when we got up to the roof  
> You opened a little flask of gin  
> Like idiots we both fell asleep there  
> Until the sun came up again
> 
> We both went out to the party  
> Down a long, great western road  
> You told the drunks I knew karate  
> That was a lie, that was a lie, that was a lie


End file.
